The sound of metal clanging and steam hissing filled my ears as I walked into the mechanic shop, and the smell of gasoline overwhelmed me. I grabbed the first guy that walked by me who looked like he worked there, donning a baseball cap and a grease-covered sweatshirt.

"Hey, I'm looking for Grey," I felt like I had to shout over all the clanging and banging. "Do you know where I can find him?"

The man said nothing and pointed to the floor below him. I tilted my head in confusion, but he walked away. I huffed out a breath and rested my hand on the old, cherry red Corvette I was standing next to. After a few moments of letting frustration boil up inside of me, I let out a groan and kicked the tire of the car. 

"I wouldn't do that."

I nearly jumped out of my skin as Grey rolled out from underneath the car. His hair stuck in sweaty clumps to his forehead, and specks of grease dotted his cheeks.

"You almost gave me a heart attack," I groaned, pressing my hand to my chest. My heart rattled against my ribs like a tiger in a cage as Grey lifted himself off the floor and studied me with his frosty blue eyes. It made me shiver but sent heat shooting down my body at the same time.

He unrolled his t-shirt sleeve, where a pack of his usual American Spirit cigarettes was tucked away. I watched with intense captivation as he stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it in one smooth, fluid motion. Every movement he made was so precise and calculated, but that was typical Grey. Precise and calculated were etched into his DNA.

"So..." he exhaled a puff of smoke as he spoke. "You want the low down on the car or what?"

My cheeks burned. I had been so awestruck by something as simple as watching him light a cigarette with his grease-stained hands, and he knew it too. And I knew that he knew because he always saw right through me, like I was made of glass.

I swallowed hard and nodded, unable to find the words that jumbled in my throat.

"Well," he sighed, leaning against the hood of that cherry red Corvette. "Your engine seized. So all the aluminum pistons, steel cylinder walls and the iron crankshaft-"

I held my hand up. "Speak English please, Grey."

He blew out another puff of smoke with a groan and ran his hand along his jaw. More grease smeared down his neck. "Okay fine," he replied tensely. "Your damn engine is fried because you didn't change your oil. So now everything in there is all scraped up and melted, and you need a new one."

"Well, that's just great isn't it?" I huffed. I felt the little veins in my forehead pulse. "How much is this going to cost?"

Grey looked down at his tatty work boots, and for a moment his stony expression peeled away, and soft, almost sympathetic look washed over him. When he looked back up at me, his usual disdained expression had returned, and it made my stomach clench. He kept his cigarette pressed between his lips when he spoke. "Look, don't worry about that part, okay?" he grumbled. "I'll take care of it."

A sigh of relief escaped my lips, but I knew there was a but coming.

"But..." He finally pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, rolling it between his fingers and sending ribbons of smoke dissipating into the air. Every moment that dragged on between us, and every moment that he studied me with his cold eyes, made nausea fill my stomach like a balloon with too much air. He and Leah had the same eyes.

"But what?" I snapped.

"Well, it's going to take me at least a few days to have everything ordered and put together, which means you're without a car." Grey rubbed the side of his face again, and I couldn't figure out how someone could make dirt and grease look so good. "You're on my way here...so if you want, I can take you to work in the morning."

I let out a groan and rolled my eyes. "Spare me your bullshit nice-guy act, Grey. I'm not some princess in distress, and I don't need your saving."

"Oh trust me, I know," he bit back. "The only person you need saving from is yourself. Which I'm poorly equipped to do, seeing as you're avoiding me like I have the black plague."

"I'm afraid if I touch you, I'll contract something. Or you'll turn me to stone, Medusa-style," I grumbled.

"Can you just dispense with the dramatics please?" He tried to sound annoyed, but there was hurt in his eyes, and that hurt spread to me like a virus. "I don't even know why you're so mad at me. Does my existence just bother you that much?"

"Honestly Grey, if I had known you were still here I probably wouldn't have come back." As true as it might have been, I knew my words had struck a nerve the moment I said them. His eyes darkened, like the sky before a storm, and I had probably just unleashed one.

"Last time I checked, you left me." He was calm, but his words were laced with venom. "I'm the one that should be mad at you. I had about four years to sit in my shit right here and be miserable, while you just traipsed through California, soaking up sunshine and living like a princess."

"I'm sorry, do you want me to apologize for trying to move on with my life? Does wallowing in all that self-pity make you feel like you're better than me?" I felt the words pouring out of me like lava, and they burned against my throat just as hot. "Newsflash Grey: you're a fucking mechanic on a fucking island in Alaska with a population of 500 fucking people. 500 people who, by the way, know everything about us, and every single little grimy detail of our twisted relationship. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I'd rather not be reminded of every single mistake I've made in this god forsaken town, and I'm sorry that even looking at you brings it all back."

His gaze turned frigid, and it send chills down my spine. "They were my mistakes too. And guess what? You're stuck on this fucking island with me. Get over it. I sure as hell am."

"You're over it?" I echoed, feeling tears sting the corners of my eyes. "Are you sure about that?"

I turned on my heel and walked out of the garage before he could see the blotchy redness that crept up my face and the tears that veiled my eyes.

"Oh and by the way," he called after me. "Medusa turned people to stone by looking at them, not touching them."